Mr Right
by lou-thewriter
Summary: Prompted by Edward, Bella ponders her childhood romantic fantasy, and where Edward exists in comparison.


The days passed slowly now that they were infinite. Edward and I would spend hours sitting, staring at each other, at the world. We had our hobbies; I enjoyed gardening. Edward was teaching me piano (slowly – I was not as adept to it as Renesmee, his protégé). I told him that soon I wanted to go to college so that eventually I may be able to have some semblance of a career. I was interested in writing, mostly about our love and about our daughter, but also about the idea of infinity. Still, in these early years of our endless days together we fill most of our time with each other. I'm amazed that each dawn as I watch the sun light up our home, or pass over a hillside to illuminate his caramel eyes, I love him more than the day before. So I was surprised that one afternoon, while we sat outside of our amazing little cottage, he brought up the topic of another man.

"Who did you think you were going to end up with? When you were little?"

The question took me off guard; we hadn't exactly been keeping up a conversation.

"What?" I asked. "You know you were my first...well, boyfriend. If you want to call it that."

He chuckled at my confusion, twisting his fingers into my own. "No, no," he said. "I mean, when you were little, didn't you have some idea in your head of your 'perfect man'? The only man you would ever consider marrying?"

I thought about this a moment. Every girl had one: her perfect man. They were all very similar, and of course hardly any little girl actually got around to marrying him. For me, he was vague. "Well. What does it matter? He turned out to be nothing in comparison to you."

"So he wasn't anything like me?" He tilted his head to the side, his eyes both knowing and curious at the same time. I admired his expression for a moment, managing eventually to tear my eyes away, darting them toward the bright forest. It was a beautiful fall afternoon.

"I didn't say that," I replied as I watched the leaves slowly moving in the wind which rustled by. I bit my lip, deciding I should choose my words carefully. "For one thing, you're not exactly a man," I said, donning a half smile at my attempt to avoid his question, though I knew my efforts would prove futile. My eyes flickered back to his as he stared at me blankly, and I had just a moment to worry that he would be upset by that statement. Instead, he again chuckled softly, his eyes crimpling gently. He watched my mouth twist into a smile once again.

"Oh Bella," he sighed, squeezing my hand before pulling his own away to rest on his chair, "this time, can you answer my question?"

"Okay," I said, actually allowing myself to recall and compare this old imagination to my real perfection, sitting right in front of me. "But give me a bit to think. It was a long time ago, you know."

"Take all the time you need," Edward replied, closing his eyes as he gently rocked back and forth in his wooden chair. I looked away and tried to focus on the past, myself closing my eyes and surrounding myself with Phoenix, Arizona.

Fourteen-year-old Bella was smart, caring, quiet, and habitual, spending a lot of time with Renee, as well as reading and exploring in solitude. She had friends, not many and not close, but enough. She had romantic interests, sure, but none that stuck in her mind as important. What she thought about men and about love came directly from her experience with her divorced parents and the books she read over and over again, losing herself in another character. Bella could imagine the worn pages of the books that had long since been donated to another child, and the pages of the books which she could never let go of. The characters weren't perfect – they had flaws – but they were loved by her heroines just the same. Mr. Darcy was proud, Heathcliffe was wrathful. What did that fourteen-year-old Bella want in her imagined other half, and what could she forgive? What are Edward's flaws that I found myself able to forgive? What about him could I never bring myself to live without?

Edward's chair creaked, and my eyes fluttered open, meeting those of my husband. We looked at each other in silence as I thought about those questions, searching his eyes in the hopes that they would somehow reveal themselves to me in his expression. I imagined Edward telling me the answers I was curious to know. How could it be that I couldn't identify a single flaw in this man that I spent so much of my life with? I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it again, realizing that saying something along the lines of my inner dialogue would not answer the questions on his mind in the least. I honestly could not remember what I wanted in a man, but I know that it must have been something along the lines of all the things I wanted in Edward. So I started listing traits. "Strong," I began, "not necessarily physically, but mentally and emotionally. Kind of heart, intelligent, attentive and observant." I paused here, and thought for a moment longer. "Honest and protective."

It seemed like a thorough list, all necessary characteristics, all characteristics that Edward obviously possessed. He continued to look at me and then began to laugh once more. My eyebrows drew together in confusion and annoyance. "What?" I asked haughtily. "What's funny?"

"I love you," he offered, and smiled, pulling my face toward his for a brief kiss. I accepted, gratefully, smiling as he pulled away, but remained confused. He read my expression and laughed quietly again, turning his face back toward the woods. "Do you know what?" he asked. I didn't answer and he glanced at me in his peripheral vision, "your shield has been raised for a while now." My mouth formed an 'O' as I looked at him in surprise, immediately snapping my shield once again snug against my own body, "I was enjoying it too much, I think," he confessed, still grinning at me. I scrambled to remember all the things I had thought of, searching to remember if anything embarrassing had come to mind in the past several moments. "Don't worry," he assured me, "you thought nothing wrong." I mentally checked that I had actually lowered my shield. Yes, he was just uncannily good at reading my face.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Well," I muttered, "You know I don't like that."

"I know," he said, and shrugged, "Let's chalk my curiosity up to one of my flaws." He pulled me out of my chair to perch on his lap. "Seeing into your mind is my favorite thing to do," he sighed, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist, and I couldn't help but forgive him instantly. There was nothing really to forgive. If I could see into his mind, I would prompt him to consider every question I wanted an answer to as well. So obviously, I lifted my shield once again, filled myself with love, and continued to think of my husband's utter lack of flaws until I found myself face down on Edward's chest, on the ground of our bedroom, the sun setting on our naked, entwined bodies as another one of our endless days drew to a close.


End file.
